


No Room for Cream

by tchaikovsky_of_words



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Coffee Shop, Drabble, F/F, First Time Meeting, Fluff, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-17 22:26:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3545996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tchaikovsky_of_words/pseuds/tchaikovsky_of_words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carmilla needs coffee and wanders into the closest coffee shop around her. Unfortunately it's a really crappy coffee chain, but it'll do the trick. She tries to quickly get her fix and get it correctly, until she becomes distracted by her oblivious barista.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Room for Cream

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't written anything in awhile so I thought I would start off easy. Just some Carmilla and Laura drabble. I'm trying to get into the habit of writing more.

“Coffee. Black. No room for cream.” I didn’t even bother looking up at the cheerful barista in the green uniform. I simply reached for the idiotic gold card that I owned. Embellished in black ink it stated that I had been a member for 2 years. What an embarrassment, but this chain was convenient. I offered the brunette batista my card but she seemed to be saying something.

It seemed like I had to engage in conversation with her. I removed my earphones and hung them around my neck.

“Would you like room for cream?”

Seriously? How clear could I have made myself. Never again, what made me think this time would be anything different.

“No,” I sighed out in defeat as this barista’s incompetence. I look up at her and hand her my card. Her eyes were a dark brown, not too different from an overeager labrador. Her state was what one could called disheveled but a giant smile was plastered on her face. That smile, genuine for once seemed to light up the room and made me feel guilty for once. 

~

I sat in an armchair in a corner and sipped my coffee slowly. I should be working on my philosophy paper, but my mind drifted. Does that barista like donuts? Or is she a bagel person? I wonder if she owns a dog. Would she be a pomeranian person or perhaps she would own a St.Bernard? I don’t think she would have a cat, she seems to bubbly to be a cat person. How is she keeping that smile on her face? She seems so enwrapped in her job, so satisfied. Oh fuck, she’s looking. Goddamnit Carmilla, I need to be writing this stupid essay on modern day Aristotle parallels. 

I scribbled on my notepad, trying to get a decent outline, but my mind wouldn’t cooperate. That’s the problem with studying philosophy. You’re constantly getting asked questions you can’t answer, the real task is trying to figure out what your professor wants. Though this doesn’t help my situation now. I’m asking myself about Aristotle and all I want to do is ask myself about that girl. The girl with the infectious smile that spreads cavities inside myself. A smile creeps at the corner of my lips, but I quickly replace it with my ever present frown.

I need to stop. I need to leave this store now. I can’t let myself be this vulnerable again. I don’t want to find that feeling again. Not again. Never again. I can’t.

I gather my things and head straight for the door. It’s raining hard outside and it’s getting dark. Of course, I haven’t brought an umbrella or a coat. The dorms were a bit further than I would have liked, but I could run it.

“Hey Dark and Broody!”  
I turn around to the voice that seemed to be calling me. That was a mistake. Those brown eyes peeked over the counter. The silly barista was waving at me to come over to the counter. I glanced around me, hoping that she was talking to someone else. No such luck. I could just be a dick and ignore her, but of course I like being stupid.

“Really? I have a name you know.”

She giggled and patiently waited me to cross the pathway, “It’s Carmilla right?”

“What-?”

“Your gold card, it has your name on it. So we baristas can creep on you. Just kidding, you should see the look on your face. Anyways, I was going to say that I can give you a ride back if you wanted. I know that’s kinda forward coming from a stranger, but it’s raining hard and ...”

I probably only processed half of what she was saying. I knew I was a goner. The moment she started talking and I started to listen. My heart was being cracked open and it craved to be filled again. It was yearning for a connection that I had neglected it for all these years.

“So Carmilla?”

“Sure, why not,” I smiled and tossed my now empty cup.


End file.
